


Paper Faces On Parade

by bluesquints



Category: Iron Fist (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Romance, Brother-Sister Relationships, Consensual Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Drug Abuse, F/M, Family Drama, Mutual Pining, One Shot, POV Third Person, Porn With Plot, Post-Season/Series 01, Sibling Incest, Smut, Ward misses his sister
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:57:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesquints/pseuds/bluesquints
Summary: A family reunion, a masquerade event and  an exhibition of feelings better left unfelt.





	Paper Faces On Parade

He calls her every day since she left and although her voicemail is always the answer, it doesn’t deter him from trying again the next day.

At night, when he’s left alone at Rand and he reaches into his side drawer for that small orange bottle, throwing back its contents, he’ll dial her number just to hear her voice on the recording. Often five or six times. During the nights he’s so far gone, he’ll leave a message on the seventh.

“I miss you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you.”

“Come back to me.”

He knows she’ll be able to hear the extra back pill in the crack and slur of his voice. Part of him hopes she does, that she’ll care enough about him to reply.

She doesn’t.

Once her office telephone had stopped taking calls altogether, he knew she wasn't coming back anytime soon.  
  
Megan tells him she gets bimonthly emails from his sister regarding her continued networking venture overseas. When he asks whether or not Joy has mentioned him, the pity in her eyes answers before she can voice the words.

Six months later however, she interrupts him during a board meeting that had run late into the evening. He notes the urgency on her face and immediately excuses himself.

“She’s back in New York,” she tells him, handing over a post-it note with an address and other curious details.

“Make my excuses,” its more of a grateful request than it sounded as he dashes for the elevator.

Turns out, the address was an upscale venue on Central Park West. A charitable organisation hosting a contemporary masquerade ball for high profile investors and it just so happens, Rand’s HR department had reached out to Joy; the presentable and pristine image of Rand Enterprises to attend and represent the company.

Why they hadn’t informed their CEO of this wasn’t difficult to guess. With Joy by his side, the familial image they presented was the saving grace of his reputation. Alone however, he served the company better locked away in his high-rise office.

The event was in full-swing once he’d arrived in appropriate attire, a matte Venetian mask in black seemed the only suitable choice for him and although he was thankful he’d likely go unrecognised, it only made finding Joy that much more difficult.

There was a balcony overlooking the dance floor, from which he’d have a good vantage point if he were to find his sister before the night’s end. He seemed to have scanned the room thrice over with no sign of her until his eyes double take at the slender figure he knew better than his own. She was taller than most women and she’d chosen to wear a particularly captivating golden number with a matching ornate mask. As such, even if he hadn’t been looking; even though he shouldn’t, he’d have noticed her anyway.

The large expanse of the ballroom seemed to blur out of focus around her. It’s when her back stiffens and she turns slowly in his direction, Ward thinks that perhaps all else faded around him too.

They lock eyes and although he’s too far to see the look in hers, he knows she’s not happy to see him.

_Of course she isn’t, you idiot._

She sets her drink down atop the nearest table, makes her excuses to those she conversed with and retreats into a darkened corner of the room.

Naturally, Ward follows and it leads him into a secluded office, lit only by the dancing lights from the party, diffused by the sheer curtain at the threshold.

“Joy?”

“Ward.” She’s seated in the far corner, the few small jewels on her mask divulging her position in the dark.

“Come out, I wanna see you.” He needs to.

“Why are you here?”

She has got to be kidding. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been gone for months, you left me without so much as a by your leave.” He wants to tell her that although Harold’s looming shadow had passed, life without her was far more difficult than any harrowing task their father expected of him. He wants to tell her he’d endure the latter again if it meant she never leaves.

“So?” He can hear the shrug of indifference in her voice and it infuriates him. But more than that, it scares him. This doesn’t sound like his sister; his Joy.

“So, Joy, I haven’t heard from you in all that time. I’m your brother - we’re family.”

He’s closer to her now and hears her scoff. It was quite the testimonial coming from him. “I’m not so sure.”

“I missed you.” Although the masks served to hide their faces, he can feel her heady breathe against his skin, as if to say “i see you” - he couldn’t hide from her and for once, he’s glad of it. She’ll know for all his lies, his sincerity rings true here.

“Prove it.” For the first time in six months, he’s close enough to see the blue that is so exclusive to her; his anchor to reality leering at him now with those come hither eyes.

She needn’t ask him twice.

There’s a hand on the nape of her neck and another splayed against the bare skin of her back as his mouth moves to plunder hers, crushing their lithe bodies together, finally and at last.

The chain around his chest loosens, the tension throughout his body evaporating in a heated frenzy as he kisses her, long and deep. It’s gentle and indulgent and familiar. He was so sure he’d forgotten the feeling in those nights he spent listening to her voicemail longingly, but as her lips open to accommodate his tongue and her hands push at his clothing, it feels natural in a way nothing had felt for a very long time.

Ferocity made her insatiable and it only served to urge him on. The hand on her neck reaches up into her hair, freeing it from its gilded confines. It’s no effort to lift her against the nearest wall, gathering her dress up at her waist and thrusting deep inside her.

Joy braces her shoulders against the wall, grinding down to engulf him further with each snap of his hips. On the edge of his senses are her breathy moans. Her nails dig into his shoulder and scalp, forcing a furious pace he could barely maintain when tension starts to swell at the base of his spine. Her fingers turn to claws as she climaxes around him, her inner walls gripping him with a vice-like intensity until he too follows her over that familiar, natural precipice.

Ward lifts his head from the pulse point at her neck and he swears he could see her smile in the soft gloom. He hopes that she feels as whole as he does in that moment.

“You changed your hair,” he notes when his hand finds its way back into the dark strands so very like his own.

“It’s not all that’s changed.” There’s that tone of indifference in her voice again. Though now he can feel the quickened beating of her heart between their bodies, dispelling any doubts he had regarding how she cared for him still.

“Come home with me?” He knows he sounds needy, imploring her like this but he doesn't care. With his hand on her right hip, his thumb slides over the slightly raised skin, reminding him that she deserves only honestly from him now.

She disentangles herself from him. Ward’s suit jacket and dress shirt were shoved aside for their excursion in the dark and as such, were no more wrinkled than they had been. Joy’s dress however, was creased in incriminating ways.

Their eyes meet and it seems to him, in that subtle afterglow of their love-making, she considers it. Although, no sooner has her own hand drifted toward the scarred skin and she stops herself: “Good night, Ward.”  
  
He's forced to watch her walk away this time.

The next day when he steps off the elevator onto the top floor of Rand’s executive suites, Megan informs him his workload for the week has halved.  
  
"Whats this about?" and his answer comes not from Megan, but from the telephone in Joy's office.

 


End file.
